After Ken and Joan return to the office, he takes her notes and adds a few of her comments to his notebook. “Joan. Did you hear Isabeau speak?”
She thinks about it, “Yeah Boss, what of it?”
“Did you notice an accent? Something that made her sound foreign?” He asks as he writes “Lena — accented English”
“Not really, but I only asked her how much a couple of those painting cost.” She replies.
“So if she is the model who inspired all of his work, they would have had to meet in Paris, Madrid, or London?” He says as he sits back and pulls a fag from pack in his pocket.
“Maybe she’s an American who did modeling in Europe. Maybe she was a WAC, a Nurse, or a volunteer who stayed to become a model?” Ken writes Isabeau’s name then starts writing versions of it, Isabelle, Elisabeth, Eliza, Bessie, and Betty.
“You might have it, Joan. Maybe she came to Europe to help with the wounded or refugees, encountered the painters, who offered to paint her. She liked the work and that’s how we got here.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and blows smoke from his nose.
He picks up the phone and dials Mister Huddler’s private number.
“Mister Huddler’s office. How can I help you?” Ramon says in a friendly, but professional tone.
“Hi Ramon, I need to speak to Theodore. It’s about last night.” Ken says in a tone that matches his.
In a moment Theodore’s voice comes over the receiver. “Mister Cooper, what can I do for you?”
Ken notices that Teddy’s tone is a bit more business-like. “Mister Huddler, last night when we heard Charles speak, did you detect an accent?”
There is a pause for a moment. “Not really. There was that ‘showman’s’ tone of voice, but not the accent of non-English speaker. I assume that when he studied, he improved his English to better attract British and American patrons.”
Ken writes down Teddy’s thoughts. “That’s a possibility sir.”
“Mister Cooper, do you still suspect some kind of fraud?”
“I wouldn’t call it fraud, but there’s something wrong. I’ll get back to you when I figure it out.”
“Please do. And Mister Cooper, if the artwork is genuine, you will have the one you wanted in your office soon.”
“Thank you, Sir. Have a good day.” Ken finishes and hangs up.
Joan walks over to the fan and enjoys some of that ice cooled air blowing on her. Ken looks up and realizes that under her thin dress, she has a thick bra, supporting her. He chuckles to himself for a moment.
“What’s funny Boss?” She asks.
He blows a cloud of smoke into the air. “Just thinking about what your brassiere is covering.”
She puts a protective arm across her chest. “You saw them once and that was enough. These are for Pete now. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I talked with Marcy and the girls last night. They was all surprised to know that cunnilingus is a regular thing. I told them that the Greeks and Romans did it for their women. They didn’t believe me until Miss Julie, apparently overheard and came over. She told us, that not only did they do it in ancient times, but guys who’s been to Europe do it too.” She steps away from the fan. “So when they finished their night, Pete was all smiles because the ladies were giving their guys the what for.”
Ken leans back and finishes his cigarette. “So Pete was a little more gentile on you last night?”
“I wouldn’t say gentle but after he warmed up his mouth again, I told him I wanted to do that fil-a-whats-it on him. Like you said yesterday Boss, an even exchange.”
He sits up and looks at her. “That’s what I’m missing. What’s being exchanged? What’s he get out of it.” He flips through his notes.
“What do you mean Boss? Pete got me to suck his dingus. Fair’s fair.” Joan says defiantly.
Ken shakes his head. “No. I’m talking Charles Pauline. If he isn’t the artist, what’s he getting out of it. If he is the artist, what’s the deal with Lena?”
“That little woman at the gallery? Isn’t she his manager or something? Isabeau seemed to follow her directions.” Joan says as she pours some water into her empty coffee cup.
Ken quickly draws a triangle in his book, he labels each corner; Charles, Isabeau, and the top of the triangle is Lena.
“So, what’s next?” Joan asks as she sits down.
“I’m going back to the Gallery tonight, after they close.”
Joan looks a little worried. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t think we got money to get you out if you get pinched.”
He gets up, grabs his hat and jacket, “I’m going out. Enjoy your night with Pete, and tell Miss Julie I said ‘Hi’.”
She stands up. “You don’t want me to come with you?”
He shakes his head as he heads for the door. “Nope. Besides who’ll get me out if the coppers nab me?” He says with a wink and a smile.
The afternoon sun is hot, as Ken drives around. He sees which hotels are near the gallery and sees if a Mister Charles Pauline is registered as a guest. None of them have him nor Isabeau or Lena. Though he doesn’t have last names for them. It’s possible that they are in a hotel farther away from Bryce Gallery, but he takes a chance that there is another option. “The Gallery was an old factory, so what’s in that back section. Isabeau said it was the Studio space. It might have more back there.” Ken says as he parks the car in a secluded part of the parking lot. With the window’s rolled down, he sits back, puts his hat over his eyes and takes a nap.
He wakes up all covered in sweat. He pulls a handkerchief from his glovebox and wipes himself dry. He checks the time. It’s after 8 and the sun is down. The sky is an inky blue with a line of dark orange on the horizon. The parking lot looks empty, and he notes that the lights are off in the main building.
Ken gets out of the car and slowly walks around to the rear of the building. He doesn’t know what type of alarm they have, but the gallery probably has something on the front door.
At the rear of the main building is a smaller building. The windows are aglow with lights, so there is something going on. Ken continues walking quietly, and looking for a rear door. Eventually he finds one. He slowly and quietly turns the handle….click..it is unlocked. Ken, as quietly as he can, slips in through the door, and makes sure it is closed behind him. The room he’s in is the old feed stock store house for the papermill. There are boxes and crates, stacked three high. A few of the crates are open, and Ken sees that they have wooden slats in them. These were used to ship the paintings. The shipping labels read that they were from London, England, which tracks with his research. Maybe he is barking up the wrong tree. Everything points to a good artist trying to trying to make a name for himself. He stops and freezes, when he hears voices.
He can’t make out what’s being said, just that one voice is female and the softer one seems to be male. He hears what sounds like a slap, and then the female voice yelling “Down on your knees! Mets-toi à genoux et lèche-lui la chatte! Do you understand?!”
Ken slowly moves between the crates to the other end of the building.
There is more light in that area, and he sees easels and canvases set up. He can smell the acrylic and oil paints. “This must be the studio area, that Isabeau mentioned.” Ken thinks.
“Oui! That’s it…. Lick her. Put your face between her legs. Utilise ta langue!” the female voice commands.
Ken slowly peers around a stack of crates and sees a naked man on all fours, Isabeau, naked too with her legs spread, and Lena painting. The exaggerated tongue on the canvas looks like it is being devoured by an open vulva which looks like a cross between a vagina and a mouth.
“That’s why! She’s the artist!” Ken says aloud and everyone stops and looks at him.
Lena puts down her paint brush and palette, grabs a rag to wipe her hands and then yells “Come from behind the Crates! Come here now! Vite Vite!”
Ken steps into the light. “I’m sorry to interrupt you while you are working. But I had questions…”
“And now you have answers!” Lena shouts at him.
A soft voice from behind her asks “Should we stop and take a break?”
Lena sighs, “Oui, Charles, get dressed. We’ll stop for now. Isabeau, you can put something on too, if you want.”
Ken notices that Isabeau’s pink nipples are hard and tasty looking, and definitely the inspiration and model for some of the erotic art pieces. She gets up and grabs a robe. She then walks over to Lena. “Can I use the toilet, while we’re taking a break.”
Lena places a gentile hand on her neck, “Oui, mon amour. Do what you need.” Then kisses her lips.
As both Charles and Isabeau leave the studio area, Lena looks at Ken. There is a fire in the eyes of this small woman. “You have interrupted me and distracted my models. I don’t know if I want to scream at you, or have you get naked so I can paint you.”
Ken leans against one of the crates feeling a little shocked. “It makes sense.” He says, then pulls out his note pad and pen. “You are Charlene Paulis.”
(I hope you enjoyed Part 4 of “Checking out the Surrealist”. My plan is to do this in a few parts over the next couple of days. If you enjoy this; Leave me a Comment. If you enjoy my writings follow and subscribe. Come back for Part 5. Be Seeing you….)
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